2021.05.18 The Old One
| Wick seeks to right the wrong of releasing the guerilla fighter Ipsha who stole weapons from the Gwydion Three, who has fled back to her native Mexico. | |
|---|---|
| IC Date | 2020.05.03 |
| IC Time | 3:00 PM PST |
| Players | Cicada Conn Erin Wick |
| Storyteller | Tabin |
| Location | Ensenada, Mexico/Near Dreaming |
| PRP/TP | Privateer |
| Spheres | Changeling |
| Themesong | A theme song for the log |
Ensenada, Mexico is where Tabin directs the helmsman. Directing Wick to a very particular port in Ensenada - the la porta del Bajo Trabador. A small marina, riddled with tourists, littered with what meager border entry agents Mexico has at it's disposal...but that's why this particular Marina is important. Regardless of how one wishes to spin it, border jumping (even to go hunt evil fairies) is still a crime. And therefore, Tabin would tell you that it's an artform. It requires 2 things, a rollerdex, and cash. So, when Wick docks the Journeyman, Tabin leaves with a shoulder bag from below decks. Fifteen minutes later, he returns with some bogus IDs, usable to keep the boys/girls (it's 2021) in blue off your back. They won't pass heavy scrutiny, but then again if you NEED heavy scrutiny on these? You probably fucked up somehow.
As far as where Ipsha is? That's the question. All Tabin can offer (as he is staying with the ship), is that the Old Ones dominate Mexico City. It is rumored the fabled city of Tenothitlan, is alive and well in the Dreaming, and is the base of the native fae that famously make Duke Topaz continue to grow gray hairs. That said? She could be anywhere. Fighting Duke Topaz's agents is much like everything else in Mexico - all gang-perceived fighting and gunfights. Tabin however knows of no Trods in Mexico City, though there is one located behind a bar in northern Ensenada open to any Fae worth their salt if you want to try to track her through the Dreaming. He doesn't need to remind you that the Old Ones haven't budged from their seats of power ever since Duke Topaz's arrival, and Duke Topaz is no pushover - going in guns blazing? Is about the worst thing you can do.
With that, Tabin wishes you luck, as you set out in this foreign land to look for your quarry.
Conn tosses his Ogham staves onto the deck of the ship before setting off, scrying out whatever useeful bits of Dán the tapestry of fate has to offer today, before picking the wooden tiles up and setting off with the party. "We should tread carefully, beyond the mortal authorities, the local fae don't much like us. Myself and Wick can pass without notice, we have coats that will keep us under something similar to a Feth Fiada. What are our other assets?"
Erin is not at ease at this trip as she looks around to the others and grumbles that Timand is not with them she listens to Tabin and all his wisdom words and finally as she seems to wait to finally ask "So what the fuck is the exact plan here and have you done your fucking homework on who you are dealing with?" She looks to Conn "I can pass without being much seen too, but before I go I want to know what the fucking plan is.."
Bringing the Journeyman up to the dock, Wick maintains the subdued silence that he has had throughout their journey south. The shame of his mistake so many months ago has never left him. And now as he sets forth to make ammends, it has fully returned.
Wick's gratitude was quite profound for those that have been willing to join him - though Erin's presence might seem to leave him a little off balance. But Tabin's intention to stay with the ship seems to rather shake him. But he accepts it with a no and thanks their captain for bringing them this far before stepping off the ship. Doing his best to keep his voice steady, he makes his way down the docks. "We have to find her. Stop her. But. Like Tabin said... she could be anywhere. We'll need information."
Thankfully, when it comes to cosmic powers, 'culture gaps' don't exist. Or at least in this case. The staves hint that the Trod is your best bet - as any traveller would say the same. Relying on the Trod's natural ability to take you where you want to go, will either dump you at her doorstep (if in the Dreaming), or on her turf (if in the Autumn World).
Cicada was busing herself with the all-important task of reapplying a fresh layer of lip gloss. Her wani form disappears under a shimmer of scales that papers over the visage of her true(or true-er) self with the mundane flesh of a mere mortal. "Omoroi~! After what I saw in Hawai'i it's hard to imagine why," Cicada replies to Conn with a sneer of sarcasm and a roll of her eyes. Her compact snaps shut. "Who knows. They may be willing to parlay with one of my kinda more. There's never been any trouble between the Gods of my homelands and the Gods of this land. I should be fiiiiine," the Suijen asserts as she accepts the fake visa. She pries open her goldfish shaped purse and drops it onto a stack of what looked like more visas and passports, some dating back to the 70's. "Honma ookini, Sencho. Been needing a new one."
Conn lifts his hand to the seer's wisp that rises from the reading, "I say we follow the Seer's Wisp to the lady in question, try to set right what we can as best as we can. Right now we have no answers, I think the Trod is probably our best bet to start at least. Stay armed, stay armored, and if you don't have an Oakenshield up; now's the time. Cicada, you may be our strongest card, foreign dignitary and not Kinain."
Erin quietly watches as she looks from one person to the next well execpt the captain cuz she knows what his plan is.
Wick pauses there on the docks and seeks to find a quiet place where they can have a word. He runs a hand back through his hair, trying to settle himself. "But before we try to find her... wait. We can't... We aren't trying to kill her. I just... she took all those weapons because of me. She means to do bad things. I just... want to stop her. Make things right. As right as I can." He keeps his voice down.
Cicada makes note to warn the rest of those venturing out: "My abilities are... not as good at the moment. This guise suppresses them. The Fifth Moon shines in good Fortune, but the season of spring is not favorable to my Alchemy. I have prepared some paper talismans, but anything else... might call too much attention to myself."
Conn shakes his head and smiles at Wick "I'm far less likely to kill someone with a sword than I am with the likes of Holly Strike. And we don't know what we'll face, beyond who. We need to track her down and get what information we can from a recon. I think a touch of Metamorphosis to make us small, Quicksilver to make us fast, and Chicanery to make us ... unseen. If you guys can help me get it up and hang it with Time, I can extend it with Chronos. Maybe bees? I've always wanted to be a bee. Dilligent creatures. Social." He pauses and looks at Cicada "I keep forgetting that you measure the seasons differently to me, Bealtaine is he first of summer in the old calendar of Ireland. It's the difference between stellar seasons and terrestrial ones."
Wick gives a small nod to Cicada. "Mm. I think... we're all sorta out of our depth here. Not welcome here. And. Well, the last time we faced her, she froze us and stabbed me. We can't match her. Can't face her. All I'm trying to do is... is... to make things right." He says this somewhat helplessly, obviously still at a loss for a concrete plan. Conn's mention of metamorphosis makes him tilt his head. "Do you suppose... we could change ourselves to appear as her kind? Draw less attention at least... Though everything else about us will give us away. Something so small as a bird or a bee might be best." Even distracted and worried as he is, the Satyr still talks of the birds and the bees.
Erin stayed back on the ship and takes a breath looking after them wherever they went and looks to Kringer thoughtfully. She looks at Tabin and then gives a little shrug.
Wick's lack of confidence is clear - still damaged from his original miscalculation so long ago. But with the support he recieves from Conn and Cicada both, he manages to make clear what he hopes to achieve. And they set plans for how to achieve it.
Their little band will be absolutely no match for going up against Ipsha. But even if they could, Wick doesn't want to capture or kill her. He just wants to make ammends and prevent whatever horrible evil he might have made possible by allowing her to escape with all those weapons. So the aim of their plan? Sabotage. And the means? Bees.
Wick nods up at Conn. "Alright. So... we turn into bees. And... Cicada, do you want us to use metamorphosis on you first? Or... do you have something else in mind?"
"A bee?" Cicada looks horrofied. "Wouldn't it be so easy to be... smashed?" She shakes her head, tossing her hair about. "How do I-- I would I stop being a bee? What if I'm stuck as a bee? Can I even use Wu Tan as a bee?" Cicada didn't seem ready for the bee lifestyle.
Conn chuckles and nods "I mean, you can't really get squished because of what would happen if someone tried. I keep forgetting you don't undersand our magic," and so Conn sets about explaining how the Time realm works, not in terms of temporal mechanics but in terms of the abstract metamagical language of the Realms. "And so that's when Quicksilver will have been targetted for the Cantrip to manifest. It's a lot simpler for us to discuss these things because our magical language is completely in sync with our practice. We lack a shared language for this, Cicada. And you can unbe a bee by asserting your own nature, I am not putting much magic into the Cantrip."
With the plan in hand, the trio make north following Tabin's directions. The trod in question, is a painted mural-arch. To the casual observer it would look like some really well-crafted grafitti, but to fae eyes the closed door of the Trod is easy to see, a gateway. Somewhere. According to Tabin, the Trod demands blood. Smearing blood on the gateway will open the trod to access and from there you will hit the Silver Path.
The trod itself? It's the Siver Path. The path has that faint, scintillating hum to it that warms your feet protecting you in your travels even if the Near Dreaming is not something you have seen before - that of jungle trees and hilly rocksides. With the image of Ipsha in your heads, the Trod does it's magic.
Where you come to, is a temple. An Aztec temple. No. Not the great city. But an Aztec ziggurat, smaller than some of the major leaguers archeologists talk about. The temple has one feature that might seem odd - it has farms. The land surrounding the temple is covered in maize giving the jaguar guards plenty of places to skulk and hide in. You can even tell there are some with how the leafs move as if someone is prowling through them. Also, unlike Kithain freeholds, this place has no 'walls'. The freehold appears to begin with the farm, and center on the ziggurat.
The Silver Path ends here, or at least your part on the path does, suggesting you have reached your destination.
At the trod, Wick had offered his blood. Any prices to pay will be his. And besides, he heals the fastest. He insists.
Coming to the Aztect temple, he tries to do his best to mimic the natural movements of an actual bee, making his path from flower to flower as he finds them. But his aim remains the ziggurat. They need to find out the plans before they can be sabotaged. He seeks to lead the way in search of someone in important-looking garb. Someone who might lead them to plans. Or even to her (though he hopes not).
Conn relishes in being a bee, the Troll always tries to embrace his life as a Changeling and bees are an intrinsic part of the quintessential Faerie experience. He follows along Wick's path, toing and froing with the wind and between the trees and branches. There's something almost zen about the experience and the Troll bee knight embraces it as best he can.
Cicadsa huffs. "No... I don't. Changing one's shape, beyond the shapes we can normally assume, takes very deep investment into the--" Words became buzzing as Cicada became intimately familiar with the bee life. Cicada has no idea what her cousins see in the bee life either. "Bzzt bzzt bzzzzz." (Translation: "This is more like it. Someone with a proper temple!")
As bees, there is nothing stopping you from buzzing across the maize field to the Ziggurat proper. The interior of the temple is lavacious, to a certain point of view and utterly archaic to others. Intricate stonework from what looks to be one massive patch of rock-stone earth, hewn into elegance. Your buzzing into the Ziggurat finds you in a very awkward place. To you it would look like the audience chamber of a Lord or Lady but there is no throne. Merely an altar.
Chained to the altar is an Autumn Sidhe Knight, wearing the tattered and bloodied garbs of House Gwydion. Up to 15 Old Ones loom in his presence, chained as he is laying down on the stone altar. Above him, with a black stone blade, is Ipsha - the woman you are looking for. The attitude of the room is somber, as if you had just buzzed into church mass.
"What is your name?" Ipsha asks as you buzz in.
"...Sir Elric Dayne." The Sidhe says with pride. Even as a captive.
"And where are you from, Sir Elric Dayne of the Warlord Topi?"
"...Missouri." Is what he offers.
"...You are not like the others we have capturd, Sir Elric." Ipha offers with a soft voice, caressing his cheek as if he was made of glass. "I have fought the Warlord Topi since I gave myself to Tlazōlteōtl. Few of his number are as...clean, as you." She taps his chest. "Your death here will give you more glory than any fight for your blue-skinned Warlord."
"Get it over with, Witch." hisses Sir Elric. "I don't need to be swaddled with baby milk. I fought. I lost. Slit my throat or let me leave."
Ipsha smiles. "Such compassion for death. I envy you. Your name will be remembered, for thwarting the Doom - Sir Elric Dayne." As she jams the knife in his chest.
Glamour floods the room, feeding the Old Ones present with renewed vigor and power. As the Gwydion's blood, almost cinematically, dripping over the altartop and onto the rivets of the sides and pooling around a divet in the floor to pool it, the room almost seems to come alive. As if...*something* has been woken up. "Tlazōlteōtl! An offering to you, by us! Your humble servants! To bless us with your lust and power to stave the Doom!"
Chants of an unknown tonque erupt in the room.
| Conn deduces his surroundings | Conn rolls Perception + Kenning vs 6 for 4 successes. |
|---|---|
| Conn contemplates said observances | Conn rolls Perception + Dream Lore vs 6 for 4 successes. |
The chains just keep him locked in. And yes, there is an effect that prevents any magic cast. The Dream-Lore also tells you that this is Very Much Not Your House, and Someone Has Put Down Rules (tm).
The pitch of Wick's bee-buzzing heightens with distress for the captive knight. But prone to reckless emotion though the Satyr might be, he has enough wisdom to know that there's no hope of stopping it. Instead - it only helps demonstrate the evils that they must somehow thwart. <<Other prisoners...>> He buzzes to the other two. <<Might free them?>> He wavers, uncertain.
"Bzzzt bzzt," bee-Cicada says. Which means: "Pretty neat. These guys know how to throw a party. No mucking about here. Just gods being gods." As it should be.
<<Pheremone for nest, community, queen structure, nectar>> Conn suggests returning to the boat to offer a complete alternative take on this.
Wick the little jungle bee is far too distressed and uncertain to know what to do. And when Conn casts for that pheremone for home with such certainty, Wick hesitates for only a moment before turning to head back.
Buzz buzz away! You flee as two of the Old Ones take the now deceased Gwydion Knight and Ipsha licks her blade like a lollipop. Complete with Girl Next Door vibe.
The Buzz Buzz back down the trod is as simple as it was for you to get here. The image of the gateway leads you straight into Ensenada, which in the Dreaming is an eerie reflection of it's real world counterpart: Sandstorms burst at random through city streets and the buildings climb higher and higher once you get through the jungle hillside. The gateway responds to blood, and blood you give, returning you to the Autumn World and the 15 minute trek back to the Marina.
"I hope that lady can't smell you from here," Cicada remarks, watching Wick make the blood sacrifice. "You have to admit. They have style," she says to Conn. "The Sidhe really think they can conquer all the world, don't they?"
Wick offers his blood once more to the trod to allow them passage. And 15 minutes later, he's collapsing on the Journeyman's deck, legs folded on either side of himself. He looks possibly even more lost and desolate than when they set out. He rubs at his face for a moment before gazing off across the ship for Tabin. "We're baack..."
Erin is waiting near Tabin for them to return probably more making sure her buddy is ok when she notices him. She obviously relaxes. She looks to the three as if expecting to hear a story or something.
Tabin, for his part, has been fishing. THe group haven't been gone long, so he is merely lounging on the main deck with a flypole cast over the side drinking a bottle of water with Erin in toe. As the troupe comes aboard Tabin kicks up his boots from his perch to sit upright. "Welcome back! How'd it go? Got everything straightened out?" Though the look on Wick's face makes Tabin arch a brow. "...What?"
Wick stills a bit as he catches Erin there. Realizing that she came all the way just to not go with them, a confused look of hurt crosses his features. But then looking to Tabin, he catches his lower lip. "We found her. But..." He hesitates, and then he describes what the ritual sacrifice that they had found. "I was trying to find some way that... that I could make things right, but... Then..." He looks to Conn.
Conn nods "Enough of them do, yeah. The Autumn Sidhe generally are more reasonable about it, y'know, having lived here for the Interregnum. But yeah, I think that any action we take here is a political action. I think you were morally, and from a strictly Old Law perspective, in the right to have set her free. I think Gwydion were trying to do something underhanded with her and you got stabbed because she saw Kinain. I don't know how to navigate these sociopolitical waters, they're much much bigger than any of us. Like, I'd trust the Morphaen Oracles to act on this level, but pretty much no other Sidhe. Maybe their Avatars, but only just. That's on top of the whole autumn political aspect. Any action we take here is political, the best we can hope to do is provide the local ruler with the suggestion of sending a letter to the Houses of their prisoners ransoming them back for exorbitant fees."
Cicada grins towards Tabin, shuffling over to see what he'd caught. "Sencho! Ee yan~ We saw a Sidhe get stabbed in the heart and explode into magic!" How thrilling indeed. The Hsien attempts to stick one of her talisman's on his rod and reel for good luck.
Erin looks at Tabin and then rubs her face "Well that's just great they are growing in numbers" she gives a little grumble. She looks to Conn and shakes her head "No he got stabbed because she is the type to stab first and ask questions later and hope you survive to ask the questions" she shrugs.
Wick is only just barely holding it together after describing the horrors he'd witnessed in that temple. But then gazing up at Conn, he listens. "Do... do you really thik I was in the right to set her free? She took the weapons. She must be planning to hurt people. That's what I wanted to fix. I still do. I need to make it right." His voice wavers - he's been upset about this for a long time.
Conn nods at Wick "There is a war here between House Gwydion and the local Gallain, the war involves prodigals as much as it involves us. One of them came to see me in the Murder to inform me about it. House Gwydion, or one of their agents or, for all I know, the Shadow Court arranged to have us all killed on our way back from that. She is the rightful ruler of that Holding, the Dreaming respects her in the same way the Murder does me. Any action we take against her interests here is a violation of the Right of Demesne. I think the Seward Acts are largely the same." He looks at Erin "Yeah, I'd be exactly the same. Because I know for a fact that Satyrs can take a good stabbing without going down. And all fae heal from chimerical damage in a matter of minutes." He looks back to Wick an shrugs "There won't be easy answers here my love."
Tabin lets out a breath. "Look man. Of -course- she is going to hurt people. They've been feuding with Topaz since the history of forever. Topaz pushes, they push back, a bloody stalemate." He shrugs. "I mean we have no clue what she was doing on that boat in the first place. And Ipsha isn't a pushover if what Erin says is true." He jerks a thumb to Erin. "I mean...we know where she sleeps, theoretically. We can send her a letter of intent. Get her neutral. And go from there. Either talk to her, to release...prisoners or whatever, or hand over the weapons, or something." He says to Wick. "Bound to terms so she won't stab us to death or freeze us to death or blood swell us to death or just death, and they wont think we're assassins for Topaz."
Cicada chuffs at Erin's comment. "Why you gotta be so crude as such. If she wanted Wick dead, she would have finished the job." The Hsien snapped her fingers. "Easy enough. Or she'd have followed us all the way back to Cali. She got her own priorities. If I'd been locked in a box I'd stab the first person I saw, too!" Cicada peers up at Conn. "I think Karma is also on Wick's side... buuuuut I also haven't asked. Seems like it would be. My people don't have any problem with these beings." And to Tabin. "Why worry about the prisoners? They're trying to invade these lands, aren't they? Aren't they getting what they deserve?"
Erin actually raises a brow and looks to Conn and Cicada before she glances to Tabin before she looks back to Wick "Do you want me to answer that question Wick?" at least she didn't just blur her opion out at him. She nods to Tabin "I rather not do anything with death honestly. But then we don't know" she looks to Cicada "What ship where you in. She had just woken up from sleep and was surrounded the only reasonn people survive was because she wasn't strong enough she had enough to buy herself time and grab shit and skip away.. " she shrugs
Wick gives a slow, miserable nod as Conn tells him there won't be easy answers. He's realizing that now all too well, both after having witnessed her power and heard Conn's arguments. Dropping his gaze, he murmurs, "I'm sorry I dragged you all down here. I guess... it's too big for me to really make right... is it? Except. Those weapons. I at least want to find those. In the Autumn. Waking her up like that... I let her take them..." He quiets with Tabin's words. "A Letter..." He hesitates. "I can't imagine she'd hand over weapons for nothing. Even if she gave us those... we'd have to give her something else..." He hesitates a little looking from Cicada to Erin. He looks rather lost.
Tabin listens to Wick's response, looking between the group and nods. When Cicada asks his opinion about the prisoners he shrugs. "It's complicated, Cicada." He gets up. "Like...okay. Your Japanese. If say, you were a samurai, and your Daimyo told you to invade another Daimyo's holding? Would you say yes or no?" He asks. "I mean don't get me wrong, the Sidhe suck donkey balls through a spoon...but the whole knight thing makes sense. If your boss tells you to do something, you do it. It's part of the game." He tells her. Then he looks back to Wick. "Look. Ensenada isn't that far from Prospect. Let's head home and get some food in the belly that isn't from my fridge. You have time. It isn't like the conflict will end tomorrow."
Wick nods as Tabin suggests just heading back to Prospect. The Satyr picks himself up off the deck. He pauses to wrap Tabin up tight in a hug, thanking him quietly for bringing them here. Then he goes to hug Conn tighter still, and even pull Cicada in, if she'll allow. Then with a hesitant glance at Erin, catching his lower lip, he heads for the ship's wheel.
And the Privateers return to Prospect, confused as how to proceed in regards to the Old One Ipsha. Is there a right to wrong here? Can justice be done? Tough questions for the Privateers to answer.
